


Boyfriend Levels of Attention

by Emela



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bottom Derek, Experienced Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, M/M, Praise Kink, Virgin Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 15:52:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5749030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emela/pseuds/Emela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So,” Stiles says. “How do you want to do this?”</p><p>“How do I want you to take my virginity?” Derek’s eyes widen. “Gee, I don’t know, Stiles. That’s why I asked you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boyfriend Levels of Attention

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sexonfire24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexonfire24/gifts).



> For Bells, my sweet bottom!Derek angel. Happy Birthday! (I wasn't going to post this on here as well as tumblr, but then IT IS A GIFT, AFTER ALL!)

“Wow,” Stiles whispers, biting down on a grin.

“What?” Derek asks, frowning.

“I’ve just never seen someone who wears leather _blush_ so hard before is all.”

The comment makes Derek blush _even further_ and Stiles can’t help it, he winks, just to see what will happen. Call him an asshole, everyone does.

He doesn’t expect the sound Derek makes- something close to a whimper- nor the way his cock visibly twitches in his sweatpants. Huh. It looks like Stiles owes Erica twenty bucks.

When they graduated high school, Stiles didn’t just come away with kick ass grades and a knowledge of Star Wars trivia that is not useless, Scott, thank you very much. Apparently he came away with _sex appeal._

Stiles isn’t exactly proud to say he’s fucked more people than he’s gotten to know in the past couple of years, but hey, he always takes the time to learn names and even an interesting fact or two before getting down and dirty, so that’s got to count for something, right? (Sure, sometimes he only remembers to ask for a name so he isn’t calling out the wrong one when he’s coming, but that’s only when he’s _really_ drunk. He’s pretty sure that still counts for good manners.)

“So,” Stiles says, rocking back on his heels a little, the silence making him uncomfortable. “How do you want to do this?”

“How do I want you to take my virginity?” Derek’s eyes widen and the blush extends to his ears. It’s freaking _adorable._ “Gee, I don’t know, Stiles. That’s why I asked _you._ ”

Stiles rolls his eyes, but decides Derek has a point. Stiles isn’t exactly sure how, but he’s got a bit of a reputation for good sexual etiquette. He didn’t know it was such a rare thing to have, but apparently it is. Apparently most guys are “selfish asshats” in bed.  Stiles would like defend his own sex, really he would, but he’s watched enough movies with Lydia and bought _more_ than enough I’m-sorry-he-was-a-jerk ice cream for Erica _and_ Isaac, to know he wouldn’t have much of a leg to stand on if he tried.  

So, here he is. Stiles Stilinski. Major in Criminal Law and, evidently, that special lovin’ feeling.

“Okay, well, last night you said you wanted me to”- Stiles pretends to read his hand- “pin you down and fuck you until graduation.” He grins, winking again, just to see Derek bite his lip and make that _sound_ again. Holy shit. “I’m not sure I have the stamina for that, but for you baby, I’ll give it my best shot.”

Derek grimaces, burying his face in his hands. “I was drunk.”

“And yet here you are,” Stiles smirks. “Sober.”

Derek blushes again, ducking his head, and for the first time Stiles doesn’t like it. Makes him feel uncomfortable. He’s only ever spoken to Derek across lecture rooms before. Usually, it’s to argue with him and Derek always, _always_ looks like the smuggest, cockiest cutie pie in the room doing it. (Yes, cutie pie. He’s seen Derek give people his jacket when they’re cold, okay? And how he tries to help when someone’s not done the reading for the class. He even saw Derek bring a professor _chocolate_ when he learned her cat died once. As Stiles said. Cutie. _Pie_.) Doesn’t mean Derek still couldn’t pass for the arrogant, stereotypical jock type though. Because he could. Stiles just knows better. Observes better.

Which is why he knows Derek blushing is one thing, but Derek blushing and _ducking his head_ means Stiles has got to be sensitive about this because that’s vulnerable territory shit right there. Stiles doesn’t know why or _how_ Derek is even still a virgin. Maybe he’s just never been ready or maybe no-one has ever taken the time to count the colours in his eyes and tell him how wonderful he is.

Not that Stiles has. Counted the colours, that is. Because that would mean he _likes_ Derek and that would just be bad for business. You know, if this thing Stiles did _was_ a business and not just about giving people happy endings. (Ha, he’s hilarious!)

 _Anyway._ The point is, Stiles knows Derek doesn’t want him to ask questions. He just wants to fuck and Stiles is A-Okay with that. _More_ than okay.

Really. It’s not like he knows for _sure_ Derek has four different colours in his eyes, depending on the way the lights hit them, or if he’s angry or smiling.

It could be three or five.

Which, shit.

Fuck his life.

“Okay, look, just take a breath,” he says. “You don’t have to do this, Derek. It’s okay.”

Derek nods once, but he doesn’t relax. In fact, he _tenses,_ eyes raising slowly to Stiles’ and _fuck,_ that isn’t at all what Derek wants to hear, is it? He looks anxious now, rejected, like _Stiles_ doesn’t want to do this or something equally ridiculous. “I can leave,” he whispers.

Sighing, Stiles shakes his head, sitting down on his bed and petting the space beside him. “Come here.”

Derek moves hesitantly, but does as Stiles says, looking for all the world like he’s trying to make himself look small. Stiles hates the way he manages it, like it’s used to doing it.

“Most people I do this with just want to remember their first time as a good one,” Stiles tells him, reaching out to take Derek’s hand. “They don’t want all that I love you crap. They just want fun and safety. That’s not the case with you. What is it?” Derek swallows audibly and Stiles tightens the pressure on his hand, hoping it’s comforting. “I need to know, Derek. You don’t have to say much, but I’m not cool with this if it’s something you’re forcing yourself to do. That’s not how sex works.”

Derek nods and Stiles watches him struggle with something behind his eyes. Finally, he whispers, “I’ve come close…a few times…but I can’t…I’m a…and your friend Scott…I overhead him say…” He closes his eyes, whispers _fuck_ under his breath and Stiles _gets it_. Shit, he should have realised.  

“You’re a werewolf.”

Derek nods, almost miserably, and Stiles instantly gets angry. He can practically feel his body vibrate with it. The last time someone made Scott feel that way about who he is, Stiles _may_ have punched that someone in the face. Twice.

“My first girlfriend, Kate…she, uh…called me a dog just before we were about to…for the first time.” He swallows, shrugging. “Sex has been a big deal for me ever since and I just thought…well.” He shrugs again and Stiles’ heart sinks, eyes immediately tracking the blanket at the end of the bed. He wants to wrap Derek in it now. Wrap him up and hold him. Possibly sending Lydia and Erica to hunt down whoever this Kate person is and stab her in the arm with Lydia’s sharpest pair of stiletto heels. (And no, he doesn’t have anger issues. He just hates douchebags, alright?)

But he can’t do that. Not really. What he can do is what Derek came here for. What he _can_ do is take care of someone asking for a little attention.

“This is something you definitely want?” he asks. Derek nods, no hesitation. “Something you’ve thought a lot about?” Again, Derek bobs his head, although he averts his gaze this time, obviously embarrassed about something. It makes Stiles want to kiss him, and to hell with it, and he does. Once, on the cheek. “Alright, lie down.”

Derek looks startled for a moment, like he thinks Stiles is kidding, but the small relief on his face when he does as he’s told, settling back on the bed, tells Stiles this is the right thing. That Derek needs attention from someone. Good attention. The _best_ kind of attention. He’s going to give Derek _boyfriend_ levels of attention. (Shut up.)

He undresses Derek slowly, placing kisses here and there, smiling reassuringly when Derek trembles slightly when he slides his sweats and boxers down. Stiles is already half naked himself and shucking out of his own sweatpants, lies down beside Derek on the bed, just touching him, feeling his chest rise and fall, betraying how nervous he is.

“My first time was awful,” he says, realising a little too late he _probably_ shouldn’t have used the words _my first time was awful_ as a way to try and help someone nervous about their first time. “I mean, we were both virgins and fumbling like crazy. I accidentally came in his eye. He kicked me in the stomach. Your classic nightmare.”

Derek’s eyes widen, eyebrow cocking, but he laughs a little, relaxing, and Stiles grins. “Was he okay?” Derek asks, using the question to shyly pull Stiles closer to him. Stiles pretends not to notice Derek’s bad attempt at stealth, letting himself be pulled, moving his hand explore Derek’s back and watching as Derek’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation. _Petting,_ Stiles notes. _Huh, okay._

“Yeah, Scott’s mom’s a nurse. I called her.”

“That must have been embarrassing.”

Stiles laughs. “You’d think, but once I caught her and my dad having sex in the kitchen. They were trying to be spontaneous. My dad- uh- put his back out during. Melissa and I had to carry him to the sofa.” He shudders at the memory. “The eye thing was nothing compared to those mental scars, _believe me._ ”

Derek laughs again and Stiles’ heart lurches something funny with it. It’s a good laugh, one that makes him feel light, like a marshmallow or a balloon. Stiles doesn’t really know how a laugh can make you feel like a marshmallow or a balloon exactly, but there you go.

“Stiles?” Derek asks, after a moment.

“Yeah, big guy?”

“Could you maybe…um.” He frowns. “Do you think I could be the one on the-” He takes a breath, and then another. “Can I bottom?”

Stiles grins, about to laugh again, but the terrified look that crosses Derek’s face has him stopping, rolling on top of Derek instead to give him his best puzzled look. “Let me guess, everyone always says how much they want you to fuck them, but no-one has ever said how much they want to fuck you. Am I right, or am I right?”

Derek’s blush comes back, but the good one. The one Stiles could stare at for hours.

“Something like that, but…”

“But?”

“It’s more…I’ve never actually- I’ve always wanted to-” He fumbles with his words, looking away. “Please don’t make me say it.”

It takes Stiles a moment. “Wait,” he whispers. “ _Wait._ Never? You’ve _never?_ ”

Derek shakes his head, looks back at him. “I want to know if I like it. Please.”

Stiles bites his lip, raising his eyebrows. “Someone’s a polite boy.”

Derek’s cock jerks between them at the words, a little sound escaping him, and Stiles kisses him, swallowing it, before Derek has the time to feel embarrassed, storing _that_ little titbit of information in his head for later. (Not that he should presume there’s _going_ to be a later, but, well… _fuck_. Is it really so bad if he wants one?)

“What do you want?” he whispers, moving so he can run his fingers through Derek’s hair. “Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want a toy? Want a practical demonstration on how to find your prostate?” He waggles his eyebrows at the last one, feeling himself blush just a little when Derek seems to find it endearing.

“I want to be on my back,” Derek says, like it’s a big deal. And fuck _maybe it is._ Maybe asking for this is as hard for Derek as asking for something kinky is for some people. Stiles can only imagine how Derek would look and sound if he wanted to be tied up or spanked. (And god, isn’t _that_ a nice image.)

“Okay, good, I can do that. Anything else?”

Derek thinks for a moment- a long moment- and Stiles watches as he struggles not to break eye contact. “Go slow?”

“Of course,” Stiles says, kissing him, soft and gentle. A promise. “Anything else?”

Derek _does_ break eye contact then and Stiles does his best not to get restless as he waits for him to speak. “If-If I wolf out during, just…don’t laugh? You can stop, or leave, but just…please. I don’t think I could-” His lip trembles slightly and Stiles slides one hand down Derek’s face, shushing him silently. _What the fuck did that bitch do to you?_

“I would never laugh, okay? Come like a freight train, on the other hand, is a very real possibility. The eye thing is a real turn on for me, dude, you don’t even know. The first time Scott flashed his eyes at me I got a little hard and he’s like my _brother._ I can’t imagine what it would be like with someone I’m attracted to.” _Which, yes, means you._

Derek’s eyes go wide, surprised, but Stiles can’t help but notice the way he preens a little at the confession.

Smiling, because it’s either that or say something really stupid like _date me,_ Stiles fumbles for the lube on the bed and coats his fingers in it. He makes sure to show Derek, wanting him to be comfortable in the knowledge that he knows exactly what he’s doing, before gently folding Derek’s legs in half.

Derek lets himself be guided, doing his best to help, and Stiles kisses his knees. “Good boy,” he whispers and Derek really _does_ preen this time.

He circles Derek’s rim slowly at first, carefully watching his face, before slowly sliding the tip of one finger inside him. Derek tightens around it instantly, body tensing. “Sorry,” he breathes out. “Sorry.”

“Shhh,” Stiles whispers, using his free hand to rub his thumb back and forth across his hip. It’s an old trick, but a good one and Derek relaxes a little, letting him push a little further inside. “It took me ages to do this to myself. You’re doing so well.”

Derek huffs, just like he does sometimes in class, but it only allows Stiles to push all the way in, causing Derek’s whole body to shudder. What the-

“Sensitive down there, hm?” Stiles teases, his own cock hardening in response. Stiles has been with guys who can come from being fucked alone, but he’s never been with anyone as responsive as _this_. Stiles wonders if he could get Derek to come just by gently tapping against his prostate.

“Sorry,” Derek apologises again, like being sensitive is _bad_ thing.

“No, I like it. That’s good, Derek. So good. Good boy.” Pushing in a little further, Stiles crooks his finger _just_ ever so slightly, searching for that spot that he knows will make Derek go-

“ _Nnnnngh!”_

“There we go,” Stiles grins, doing it again, his own breathing becoming a little shallow at the way Derek practically arches off the bed, legs still prettily splayed in the air, just where Stiles put them. _Fuck_ , it’s a beautiful sight.  

“I want- I want-”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

 _Sweetheart?_ (Oh god, he really _does_ have it bad. Make that fifty bucks he owes Erica.)

“More, please.”

Stiles chuckles, never having been able to resist a pretty beggar, and adds a second finger, stretching Derek slowly. He doesn’t normally find himself looking, but he can’t help it and his eyes travel down, watching as his fingers push in and out of him, his perfect, pink hole so wet and _tight_ around him. Stiles want to cry a little. Assholes aren’t meant to be pretty- well, unless, of course, you don’t mean it _literally_ \- but hot diggity _damn_.

“You want me to fuck you like this, Derek? All nice and on display for me?”

Derek whimpers, clenching down.

“Is that a yes, Derek?”

Derek nods, mouth parting to say something, but all that comes out is a low moan that goes straight to Stiles’ cock.

“Good boy, Derek. Good boy.”

“But I didn’t do-”

“Shh, good boys don’t question praise,” he whispers, adding a little more lube and a third finger, teasing Derek’s prostate until he quietens down, head thrown back against Stiles’ pillow beautifully. Stiles is unable to take his eyes off his cock, however, watching hungrily as it turns an angry shade of red, pre-cum dripping down the shaft and pooling on Derek’s stomach.

Leaning in between his legs, he dips his head to taste it and Derek mother fucking _whines,_ tilting his head to bare his throat _._ Every soft part of him is on display now- _everything-_ and Stiles knows what that means to a werewolf. He wants to pull back, question why Derek is giving him this trust but-

“You like that?” he asks instead, waiting until Derek whispers a small _yes_ before doing it again, biting down softly across his navel, his fingers slipping out when Derek bucks up at the sensation, legs spasming. “Fuck, _yeah.”_

“Stiles?”

“Mm?”

“No-” He pants. “No condom, okay?”

Stiles pauses at that, before remembering. Right. Werewolf. “You sure?”

Derek nods. “ _Please._ ”

Nodding, Stiles leans back a little, slicking up his cock. And _god,_ that feels good. So very good, but it’s _nothing_ compared to watching Derek spread his legs a little wider for him, shy but so fucking _wanton_ at the same time as he tries and fails to hold himself open for Stiles with shaking hands _._

“You like being on display for me, sweetheart?”

Derek grins unexpectedly, turning his head into the pillow, chest turning a beautiful shade of pink. “Th-think about you all the time. In class. So pretty, all the time. Want to be pretty for you too.”

Biting his lip, Stiles shakes his head, wondering if Derek is aware what he just said, and lines himself up. Derek doesn’t give much resistance, but he goes slow anyway, wanting to savour each little sound Derek makes as he pushes inside, his own eyes rolling back in his head as he does because _Christ_ Derek feels amazing _._

“You _are_ pretty, sweetheart,” he says, rocking forward, moving his hands back to guide Derek’s legs around his waist as he drops forward, kissing him softly. “So. Fucking. Pretty.”

 _“Stiles._ Please. _”_

He isn’t too sure what Derek is asking for, so he slows down even further. _Slow boning._ Shit, maybe he should have put music on. Lit some candles. Derek deserves that. Stiles doesn’t know why, not really, but he can feel it in his gut. Derek deserves it. “You okay?” he asks instead.

Derek nods, eyes fluttering open when Stiles leans down to kiss his neck, taking the skin between his teeth and worrying it. Derek near on _howls_ in response _,_ a soft little thing that Stiles finds more sexy than adorable apparently because his hips stutter at the sound, a shaky breath escaping him. “ _Fuck.”_

“Yeah.”

Stiles grins, moaning again as Derek clenches around him, trying to keep him inside. “You’re cute when you’re- _hnng-_ come drunk.”

“I’ve not even come- _ah-_ yet.”

“Maybe you’re a sexual lightweight.”

“Maybe you’re an idiot.”

Stiles laughs, biting down on Derek’s neck again just to feel him shudder under him, looking down to watch as his cock strains prettily, pre-cum splattering Stiles’ chest. Stiles’ own cock jerks in response and he groans, letting his head hang for a moment. Should stuff like that even be sexy? Stiles is pretty sure he’s never found himself thinking _yes, mark me,_ before.

“Touch me,” Derek whispers.

“Next time,” Stiles says, kissing him. “Let’s see what some prostate lovin’ does first, hm? It is a new toy after all.” He winks, thrusting in particularly deep, moaning into Derek’s mouth and relishing in the one he receives in return, desperate and pleading. “Fuck, Derek. _Fuck._ ”

Derek just nods, tentatively sliding his hands down Stiles’ back until they reach his ass, cupping and squeezing, asking Stiles to move faster, _harder_ , spreading his cheeks and rubbing one shy finger over his hole before-

“Bastard,” Stiles gasps, and then he’s coming, shuddering through his release, letting Derek hold him through it because _fuck fuck fuck._ He never comes first. It’s not what he _does_.

Taking hold of Derek’s cock, he strips it, rough and hard, whispering soft praise into his skin until Derek chokes on a sob, legs quivering. It’s like nothing Stiles has ever seen, Derek’s eyes flashing blue, fangs dropped as _roars_ through his orgasm _,_ baring his neck again for Stiles to bite down on.

Stiles shudders, feeling Derek’s claws prickle the skin at the top of his thighs, but he leans down anyway, biting hard as Derek continues to writhe under him, continuing to come and mother fucking _come,_ whispering his name over and over like a prayer. It makes Stiles feels like some sort of deity. Which, hey, he’s not complaining.

“Don’t leave,” Derek gasps, rolling them over until Stiles is the one on his back. “Please don’t leave.”

“Shhh, I’m not going anywhere,” Stiles whispers, holding Derek close, letting him nuzzle him, scent him. He knows werewolves are pretty tactile, clingy, especially after sex, but Stiles doesn’t mind. He likes clingy. Especially with Derek.

“No, I mean, don’t leave,” Derek looks up then, his eyes human, carefully blank.

Stiles blinks. Don’t- _oh._

Oh.

“Do you, uh, like pancakes?” he asks, smiling.

Derek nods, still staring.

“Star Wars?”

Grinning, Derek drops his head again, nosing at Stiles’ neck. “Yes.”

“Then yeah, okay,” Stiles whispers, holding Derek just that little bit tighter when he sags against him, happy and sated in what Stiles assumes is possibly the first time in a long time.  “I’m not going anywhere, big guy. Just you watch me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My [ tumblr ](http://pale-silver-comb.tumblr.com/) where bottom!Derek has kind of taken over, just a little.


End file.
